


Absolution

by igrab



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrab/pseuds/igrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's a pause, then. Atsushi stills, and when he speaks, it sounds like he's veered off in another direction entirely. "Have you ever met someone with someone else inside them?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The same night that Kuroko talks to the rest of his team, Murasakibara talks to Tatsuya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

The others drew straws to figure out who would be rooming together, but no one was stupid enough to suggest that Murasakibara or Tatsuya take part in it. Coach gave them a sidelong look, to which Tatsuya glared right back in return. Because really, who wanted to tell their purple giant that he couldn't have what he wanted? She'd worked with him long enough to understand how to pick her battles. This was a triviality, really.

Whatever. Tatsuya didn't care, as long as it left him alone with Atsushi. 

He's sitting at the window when Tatsuya returns, knees pulled all the way up to his chin, staring out at the night. Tatsuya shifts his jaw and winces - that shithead sure could pack a punch, but he'd had worse. Hell, he'd had worse from Taiga. That wasn't what was making his blood boil like an itch he couldn't scratch.

(He touched Alex, he fucking touched her, that fucking jerk ass creep with his ham hands had fucking _touched her_ \- )

Whatever, whatever. It's okay now. (It will be.)

He spares Atsushi a glance before smirking to himself. No comfort from that direction, that was for sure. They'd just _lost_ , to _Seirin_ of all things, he working through it or ignoring it or whatever and that was fine. If Tatsuya wanted someone to fuss over him - well, he wouldn't be dating this asshole, that's for sure.

Still, his face fucking hurts, and he's still angry, and he thinks it might be nice to rile him up, give himself something else to think about. 

(In a sexy way, this time. Fuck, he's never punching Atsushi again, his hand _still_ aches. Christ.)

So it's with that intention in mind that he sidles over, slides his arms around Atsushi's shoulders like he fucking belongs there (spoiler: he does) and presses a kiss to his neck. Coincidentally, it's just under the bruise he himself left, now purpling nicely (it matches his hair and eyes, adorable). 

Atsushi is still and quiet, so Tatsuya pokes him. Right in the bruise.

Still nothing.

A bit put out that he hasn't managed to piss him off yet, Tatsuya pouts. "Still hurts?"

Listlessly, Atsushi raises a shoulder and drops it. Nonverbal doesn't bode well for Tatsuya's plans, but he can be as stubborn as his boyfriend when he's of a mind to be. He goes for the ear instead, nibbling on the edge of it, but when _that_ doesn't provoke a reaction, he starts to worry. Maybe... leaving him alone wasn't the best idea?

"Shit," he mutters, arms going tight around him. "Don't you fucking dare check out on me, Atsushi."

"Mnot," the big guy mutters in his mulish tone, and relief washes over Tatsuya. "Thinking."

Ah. Well, that explains a lot.

He's about to make a snide remark to that effect, but Atsushi's head shifts, just enough to focus one baleful purple eye on Tatsuya's face. And _he's_ about to tell him off, for certain, but they're close enough that Tatsuya's own bruises are, apparently, impossible to miss.

That purple eye widens, and he stills.

Tatsuya always wondered what it would look like, when Atsushi fell in love. At the beginning he was under no delusions that it would be with _him_ \- he was, after all, simply someone that Atsushi tolerated enough to listen to. Then, after he couldn't ignore his own feelings any longer, it had turned to a fearful and desperate hope, that one day his boyfriend might feel the same.

He had kidded himself into thinking it would look much the same. That he'd share his candy or some other grossly domestic bullshit. He'd ignored the truth he was all too aware of - that Murasakibara had enough passion to fill his heart and more, that the reason they were pushed so deeply away was proof of their power. (After all, Tatsuya was more like that than he cared to admit. He kept his head because he'd trained himself to. He didn't let his emotions control him, but that didn't mean they weren't _there_.)

Instead, what he gets is this - one eye open, fully, wide and equal parts angry and terrified. Lips pressed in a thin line, not quite able to still their trembling. _Fury_ \- not at Tatsuya, never at Tatsuya, even when he'd actually punched him square in the jaw and dragged him from his comfortable denial - but at someone else, a nameless, faceless enemy, because Tatsuya had gotten _hurt_.

"Who," Atsushi says, and his voice is shaking with rage, tight and vicious. "Did Kaga--"

He doesn't even let him finish that stupid ass thought. " _No_ ," he hisses, and shifts to cover him more fully, practically sliding into his lap. They can look into each other's eyes like this, narrow hazel into shocky, angry purple, and it's impossible not to see how Atsushi's eyes dart to the rest of his bruises. Damnit, of all the times.

"Some shithead was hitting on Alex," he mutters.

He expects Atsushi to roll his eyes, maybe. Instead he gets a huff of a laugh, small but genuine, and something warm and fond and _open_ in his eyes. "I see," he murmurs, and damn if it isn't _warm_.

"Some shithead who's playing Kaijou now," Tatsuya adds. "Your blond friend promised to beat him, so. I'm not worried."

Atsushi's eyes go wide again. "Zaki-chin," he mutters, and Tatsuya knows enough about Murasakibara's nicknaming habit that he isn't worried. Sure, he starts doing it when someone gets close to him, but he just... never stops. Especially not if their name is longer than the nickname.

What he's not expecting is for large hands to creep up between them, to gently cup his bruised face (it drives Tatsuya crazy, just how delicate Atsushi's fingers can be). He hums, thoughtfully. "Could have been worse," he says, and Tatsuya reads between the lines as easily as breathing. (I know how dangerous he can be, you're lucky, I'm relieved.) 

Then his hands drop and his eyes cut away, like he can pretend he isn't actually invested. "Kise-chin will crush him. And if he hurts Kise-chin, Mine-chin will do it." He doesn't shrug, but it's clear the subject's done, his intensity gone as quickly as it came.

Because Tatsuya's observant and cautious and intelligent, he can follow where that thought was going. _If it was up to me, I would do it,_ Atsushi's face had said, _but if I did, he'd end up in the hospital, and I'd get kicked off the basketball team._

What's ridiculous is how many of Atsushi's choices revolve around something he's pretended, for so long, not to love.

==

A day later, they still haven't talked about the match, which is just fine with him. Atsushi has issues - that's not exactly _news_. (And yet, strangely enough, Tatsuya seemed to be the only one in his life who thought it was worth the effort, getting close to him. Maybe Tatsuya just wanted a challenge. Maybe he was bitter about his little br-- _Taiga_. Maybe whatever. It didn't matter. For whatever reason, they'd chosen each other.)

They're not talking about it, but something's changed. They'd slept with tense muscles from clinging to one another, too close to do anything but breathe and listen to the unsteady thump of their hearts. At breakfast, Atsushi ignored everyone so pointedly that Kensuke almost asked what was wrong - Tatsuya gave him a withering look before he could even open his mouth. He knows what he's thinking - _he's never cared about basketball, why the hell should he care that we lost?_ But that's why they should shut the fuck up and leave Murasakibara to Tatsuya, as they've been doing all along.

Still, usually Atsushi at least pays attention to _him_. He's getting ignored so hard he'd almost feel that something was wrong, but he's probably going to have even more bruises from how tightly he'd held him last night, so. He figures, that's not something he has to worry about.

They let the others go on ahead to the stadium, and Coach looks back once but lets them hang behind. Of all the teams left, Atsushi has friends on each of them, or whatever he wanted to call them. Tatsuya only has one horse left in the race, but he doesn't know yet if he wants that horse to win, or to be crushed mercilessly like a bug. (That's a lie. Of course he wants Taiga to win. If only because it'll be less shameful, to be defeated by the eventual winner.)

After a moment's silence, Tatsuya smiles and hooks a hand around Atsushi's elbow, ignores the disgusted noise he makes and tugs him off down the sidewalk away from the stadium. "Unless you don't want to grab snacks before we go?" Tatsuya finally asks, and Atsushi quiets instantly.

"Oh," he breathes. _Yeah,_ Tatsuya thinks, _that's right. You were so caught up that you forgot about snacks. For shame, Atsushi._

The glaring pout on his boyfriend's face tells him he knows, and he knows that Tatsuya knows, and he doesn't find it funny _at all_ , so of course Tatsuya laughs.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, not for the first time. Maybe someday he'll say it out loud. Maybe, now that he knows Atsushi feels the same. 

He's surprisingly sparse in his purchases today. Tatsuya grabs a few extra things and tucks them into his bag for later, smirking at how Atsushi is very nearly restless. "Looking forward to the games?" he finds himself asking.

"No." Of course. Never mind that he answered far too quickly, and they both know it.

"Okay." He tucks their hands together, sticks them in Atsushi's pocket. "Let's go, then."

==

Of all Atsushi's old teammates, Tatsuya's heard the most about Kuro-chin, with good reason. Atsushi can claim indifference all he likes, but heaven forfend anyone _else_ try and badmouth Kuroko, or insinuate that he was any less important than the others. Tatsuya's certain that, of all of them, Kuroko was someone Atsushi actually _liked_.

Which was, perhaps, why he focused all of his anger and vindictiveness on Taiga, blaming him entirely for Seirin's success. In all honesty, Tatsuya thought it was pretty cute. Maybe, in a few months or years or however long it took for them to be able to talk about this, he'd bring it up.

(Was he really thinking about this in terms of years? Yeah, yeah he was. Atsushi _loved_ him. This opened up an entire new spectrum of possibilities, things Tatsuya had only hoped for.)

As for the others - Mine-chin was spoken of with fond annoyance, but only about how they'd first met. The Mine-chin they saw on the court these days was different, and Atsushi had little to say about him. Kise-chin was annoying, apparently, but Atsushi didn't let himself be annoyed by anyone he didn't actually like, so. (He'd thought Tatsuya was annoying at first, too. He basically figured out that it meant 'I'm annoyed because you're making me like you, and having feelings is tiring.')

Mido-chin was 'weird'. Which meant absolutely nothing coming from Murasakibara, so Tatsuya had tried to prod him for more, to get a handle on what that kind of person meant to Atsushi. (It had nothing to do with Tatsuya appreciating his impossibly beautiful three-pointers - nothing at all.)

"Mido-chin is Mido-chin," he'd said with a huff. "He will always be Mido-chin. No matter what happens." And Tatsuya heard something in that - _unlike some people I've known_. So, maybe, what Atsushi appreciated about him was his consistency.

(That was good. Tatsuya could _do_ consistent. It was practically the only thing he could do, actually.)

But the first game of the day is Mido-chin versus Aka-chin, and of all his former teammates, Aka-chin was the only one that Atsushi had refused to talk about.

They wander in by the end of the first quarter, and Tatsuya thinks he might have better luck, with the guy actually in front of him. He's... not much. Tiny, really. When he tries to press for more information, Atsushi shrugs him off - but it's different, not the slamming door that he's been treated to in the past. He answers the question, but doesn't offer anything else.

Another step in the game, then. _Later_ , he thinks, and settles in to watch.

Akashi is... something else, honestly. He plays with such precision that it makes Tatsuya want to cry, but with such grace that it's almost impossible to appreciate how each individual move is calculated and executed. He's... breathtaking, actually.

 _So this is the person that Atsushi refuses to talk about,_ he thinks, and for the first time since last night's revelations, a coil of something unpleasant starts in his belly.

 _He's going to win, isn't he,_ he thinks, and look at that - he does.

==

Over dinner, Atsushi ignores him again, but he keeps their thighs pressed together under the table. So he's ready, when the door to their hotel room shuts behind them, to be swept up in those long arms, for Atsushi's face to bury itself in Tatsuya's hair. He hums into the broad chest before him, thinking, _I am ridiculously, incredibly lucky._

Atsushi takes a deep breath, like he's going to say something. Tatsuya's ready for it, but not for what those words are - really, nothing could have prepared him. "When I was thirteen," Atsushi murmurs, his voice muffled by Tatsuya's hair, "I murdered my best friend."

It's a testament to... something, that Tatsuya doesn't pull away with shock, doesn't even _react_. Because there's something more coming, this is just the tip of the iceberg that his boyfriend's been carrying with him all week - maybe all year, maybe since it happened. It's stayed behind the slammed-shut door labeled _Aka-chin_ and Tatsuya has never pushed, never forced it. And here they are.

When Atsushi remains silent for a long time, he rubs a palm over his lower back, soothing. "We could sit," he murmurs, and Atsushi nods, though he doesn't let up on his octopus grip. They shuffle to the window seat by mutual agreement and Tatsuya curls himself into Atsushi's lap, head tucked into his neck so they don't have to make contact while he tells this story. So he can hold Tatsuya close, huddle around him, like he does with his food when he feels attacked (Tatsuya may or may not have noticed this, and tries not to think about what it means). 

"Aka-chin was nice," is how he starts again. "He wanted me to play basketball with him because he thought I'd be good. Not because of..." but he trails off. Atsushi can talk about his height just fine if he's using it as a weapon, to defend himself, but Tatsuya has noticed that what he rarely mentions is how _other people_ see him. He'll just imply it, or trail off and change the subject, or talk around the obvious. It makes Tatsuya's heart ache.

"...I had bad days. He made them better." Lips press at the crown of Tatsuya's head. "Not like you do. Not by just being there. But he bought me things, gave me space. Learned how to listen with his eyes."

Tatsuya feels a ridiculous swell of affection. It isn't that he doesn't - he _knows_ his presence helps, he can read that much easily, but he's never had Atsushi actually acknowledge it before. It... makes him feel proud, and happy, and loved.

But this isn't about him, and he keeps listening.

"I got better," he says, with a flatness and distinct lack of emotion that spoke volumes. "I was starting to feel things. But bad things came first." His fingers twist into the hem of Tatsuya's shirt. "Anger. Jealousy. Pride."

Tatsuya rubs his nose along Atsushi's collarbone. He doesn't - he hasn't had the same mental health experience, not that anyone really does, but. He's gone to therapy, he's flirted with a few diagnoses. He's nowhere near Atsushi's tangled mess of fucked up, but he knows what it's like to be depressed, a little, and he can imagine how it must be when it's ten times, a hundred times worse. When anger is a good thing, because it's the first thing you've felt in so long, but you don't know how to deal with it anymore, if you ever did.

Atsushi hums, like he's thinking. _I love you_ , Tatsuya thinks again, trying to will that feeling into his partner's skin. _I love you, I love you._

"I said I wanted to not have to practice anymore. But mostly I wanted to be better than Mine-chin." Tatsuya squeezes him around the waist as a small reward for that truth, silently supportive. "Aka-chin said I could if I beat him, and Mine-chin never beat him, so I said yes." 

Tatsuya can feel the way Atsushi's body is tensing under him, coming to the part of the story he least wants to tell. He's already got a fair idea of what might've happened in mind, given what he's seen on the court today - but there's some piece missing, something that could have caused the drastic backsliding that Murasakibara clearly experienced. Something that would explain the whole, 'I murdered my best friend' thing.

"I almost beat him," he says, with a hint of that mulish pout. "I was winning. First to five points, and I had four."

 _Damn_ , Tatsuya thinks, _that's incredible, even if he was only half as good as he is now._ But then, he's _seen_ Atsushi in action. In the Zone, even. He knows exactly what he's capable of, and it's mindblowing.

There's a pause, then. Atsushi stills, and when he speaks, it sounds like he's veered off in another direction entirely. "Have you ever met someone with someone else inside them?"

Tatsuya sorts through the Atsushi-speak to find the meaning behind it. "Like a split personality?"

"I guess." But he shakes his head. "Like a split person."

A subtle difference, but Tatsuya sees what he means. Maybe it's not one personality with two sides, but something sundered, each entire personhood separate from the other. "I think I know what you mean," he murmurs. "But... no, I haven't."

"Mm." He absentmindedly mouths at Tatsuya's hair, like he wants to be chewing on something but isn't. It's unbearably sweet. "Aka-chin turned around, and suddenly he wasn't Aka-chin anymore." Those arms around him are tight, muscles locked with tension. "My Aka-chin was nice. Strict, but nice. This Aka-chin played basketball like no one else mattered. Nothing but winning." 

For once, Murasakibara sounded bitter about that. Tatsuya blinks, because of all things this isn't what he expected - that Akashi is literally more messed up than the rest of them combined, that he has _DID_ for Christ's sake. How did no one know about this? How was he not in _therapy_?

"I like winning. But the new Aka-chin made it hurt. Everything got boring. No one cared anymore. He wasn't my friend anymore. He didn't help, he just made everything worse." There's a tremble in his voice, and - Tatsuya wonders if he's about to cry. He's never seen Atsushi cry, and he doesn't - this is the last thing he wants him to cry over.

"And it's my fault. I shouldn't've - if I hadn't been stupid, none of this would have - "

Tatsuya reaches up with shaking hands and winds them around the back of Atsushi's head, pulling them tight together. He doesn't cry, but he does sit there and shake, for a long time, hands clenching and unclenching in the back of Tatsuya's shirt.

In the dead silence, he whispers, "I miss my friend."

==

After Murasakibara passes out, exhausted from feeling so many emotions, Tatsuya flicks open his phone and goes in search of some videos. He finds them easily enough - there'd been a pretty good documentation of Teiko's Generation of Miracles and their rise to power, for better or worse.

The difference between the two Akashis is incredible.

How did they miss this? Or worse, what sane adult would see this kind of change and think nothing of it? The worst part is how it's not just Akashi. He watches Aomine get exponentially better, then suddenly pull back and play with none of the light and laughter that he used to. He watches Atsushi, even more awkwardly outgrown from his teammates, grow in skill and technique and then suddenly he's doing the thing where he just uses his height and wingspan to crush his foes. Kise, first an exuberant bundle of energy chasing Aomine's flame - turned into someone who mocks others with his copies, flaunts his skills in their faces. Akashi, focused on team synergy, and then - Akashi, the Emperor.

Midorima changes the least, but there's a picture from their first year when he's just shot a basket and he's actually smiling. After Akashi's split, it's like he just shuts down. Hardly ever looks at his teammates, simply focuses on himself. If they give him the ball, he shoots it. Otherwise, he doesn't care.

But the worst is Kuroko.

Oh, not the worst in terms of the greatest change - but the worst treated, the most heartaching. In the first videos, he's simply ecstatic to be playing on the court at all - maybe kind of intimidated, but _happy_. 

His change starts before Akashi's, maybe around the time that Aomine starts getting better. Slowly, the smile wears off. They put him in less and less games, as they stop needing their trump card. He stops passing to Aomine.

No, wait, that can't be right.

Tatsuya backs the video up a bit and watches again. Yes, there - he can _see_ it, Kuroko looks at Aomine, positions himself to redirect the ball right for him - but something passes over his face and when the ball comes, it's Midorima that he hits it towards.

After the split it only gets worse. Tatsuya can see him on the bench, sometimes, or every now and then they'll put him in but he hardly touches the ball. They're so good it's disgusting, almost, but it would be fine if they didn't look so dead inside.

 _Who the fuck let this happen??_ Tatsuya thinks, his own mental voice a strangled shout. _What the fuck kind of teachers did they have at Teiko? What the fuck kind of parents??_

But he thinks about what he knows of Atsushi's home situation - which is to say, hardly anything. Yosen is a boarding school and Atsushi never goes home for the holidays. He never gets mail from home, not even on his birthday, and the only time he uses his phone is to text Tatsuya when he doesn't feel like speaking. So, no, if he has any family they literally don't give enough shits about him to even _try_. 

He can see the sky starting to lighten in the east already; he's been up all night watching those videos, tucked under one of Atsushi's arms. He should sleep, he really should, but he has to say something before he does, has to make sure he starts this.

To: Niisan  
> Hey. Meet me after breakfast?

He flips his phone shut and lets it drop to the floor. Taiga won't see it until he wakes up, anyway.

==

When it happens, he's watching Atsushi's face, not the game itself, so he couldn't say why it does. But this is what he sees - those lovely purple eyes, usually heavy-lidded and half-focused, go suddenly wide and sharp. His lips press together, to keep them from trembling. His arm tenses all the way to the shoulder.

" _Seijuro_ ," Atsushi breathes, so quietly that only someone listening with their whole body could have heard it.

Tatsuya looks, then. He hadn't gotten any sleep at all but it had been worth it, to make up with Taiga so simply - he wasn't going to be like the Generation of Miracles, not in this, clearly they weren't going to need any unnecessary drama in their lives - so the videos are fresh on his mind and he sees it. It's as obvious as night and day.

Somehow, in some way, Atsushi's Akashi has returned.

They're quiet for the rest of the game, aside from the occasional comment on the action. Atsushi's eyes haven't looked away from him - they're riveted on the tiny little point guard, with his strawberry hair and delicate, graceful energy. Tatsuya has no idea how he could ever have thought that the Emperor was the same person.

When Seirin wins, however, he doesn't have time to celebrate - Atsushi's taken off, shouldering through the crowds with far more aggressive intent than he normally allows himself to have. Tatsuya struggles to keep up.

He's not remotely surprised that Atsushi is heading for the Rakuzan changing rooms.

He barges in with little to no resistance - it's not as thought he's a difficult person to identify, probably - and for what it's worth, the team looks like it doesn't quite know what to do with Akashi now, or how to handle losing. But they don't matter.

Atsushi crosses the room in three long-legged strides, and throws his arms around Akashi's shoulders.

There's a heavy silence, everyone practically holding their collective breath. Atsushi has his face buried in Akashi's shoulder; for a moment, neither of them react.

Then, slowly, tentatively, small pale arms come up to wrap around Atsushi's back. Then they tighten, pulling him closer. His shoulders shake, violently, and he _sobs_.

"I think maybe we should give them some space," says the white-haired one, the Kuroko 2.0, and the others nod, clearing out with a shaky efficiency. Tatsuya follows, but he waits outside the room, hands in his pockets. Things are, maybe, going to be okay.

==

Atsushi can't remember the last time he cried.

It doesn't matter, anyway, because he's probably never cried like _this_. It's ugly, and loud, and he's getting snot and tears all over Akashi's nice Rakuzan jersey and instead of telling him it's disgusting, Akashi hugs him tighter because this is _Aka-chin, the real Aka-chin_.

"I m-missed you," he finally chokes out. "I'm s-s-so s- _sorry_."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Aka-chin murmurs, and it's so _different_. His voice is so _different_ it makes his breath catch, he hasn't heard it in years and everything hurts, everything aches and he feels so alive. 

"I d-did this," he mumbles, wetly. "I m-made you l-leave. I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"

"Murasakibara," he interrupts, and Atsushi's heart actually leaps in his chest. He would never tell Muro-chin how it had hurt at first, hearing him say Atsushi, that Akashi's horrible little voice had made him hate the sound of his own first name. "I don't blame you. You didn't do anything wrong, nothing at all," and he keeps going, keeps saying the things that everyone had tried to tell him without fully understanding, so he couldn't hear them. Aka-chin was the only one who mattered, anyway.

"Still sorry," he mumbles after a while, after the tears have wound down and they aren't gripping so tightly to each other. Gently, Aka-chin extricates himself from Murasakibara's arms, and goes to change his shirt without a single grimace of disgust.

"Mm. Tell me everything that happened while I was gone, and I'll forgive you."

And Atsushi could kiss him he's so relieved (but not really, he doesn't like Aka-chin like _that_ ). "I can do that," he says, "but... I'm kind of hungry."

Aka-chin lets out a small huff of a laugh. "Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"No." Half his mouth twists up and he hopes it looks like the smile it's supposed to be. "Some things haven't changed. But..." and he looks to the door now, where he knows Muro-chin is waiting, because he's probably the best thing that ever happened to him. "...Some have."

Aka-chin smiles over the collar of his shirt and it's warm, rueful, sad, _proud_. "I look forward to knowing every single one."

==

That night, Atsushi introduces Tatsuya to Akashi Seijurou as his boyfriend, which he's never actually done before, and Tatsuya almost cries. Then he does, when Atsushi smiles from ear to ear, eyes lit with love and affection and not a hint of the shadow that's hung heavy on his tall frame for all the time they've known each other. And Tatsuya's well aware it's not cured, he knows these things don't heal in a day, but Atsushi looks, for lack of a better word, _absolved_. Another step on the road they've chosen to walk together, he supposes, and one step closer to saying it out loud, to making these truths known.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, as he knits their hands together on the walk back to the hotel. _Sane or crazy, for better or worse, I love you._


End file.
